


Nice to Meet You (We should do it again)

by SparkandSmile



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, wtnv
Genre: Christmas present, F/F, Mags Magee belongs to Hans-the-liesmith, This version of Lauren belongs to Smilodonmeow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkandSmile/pseuds/SparkandSmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of backstory for Mags and Lauren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice to Meet You (We should do it again)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleMissLiesmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissLiesmith/gifts), [smilodonmeow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilodonmeow/gifts).



Mags stared at the pile of notes sitting innocently before her, and for a brief moment seriously considered setting them all on fire. Instead, she groaned heavily, and sank her head deep into her hands, hoping to never resurface. A flower show. She was writing about a flower show. She was Mags Magee, for crying out loud! Intrepid investigator, riveting reporter… she couldn’t think of any more alliterations. Out of all the thousands of event happening every single day, she should not be reporting on a flower show.

Unfortunately, ever since Strex had arrived in Desert Bluffs a few months ago, she was even more constrained than she had been previously. Typically, of course, the city council would block at least half of her pieces from being published, on the basis that if they didn’t keep up with their censorship then they might lose the right. However, Strex was even worse. They had brought every newspaper in town, and refused to allow any articles to be published which even remotely suggested that there were problems in the town. And when a few writers got together and created their own expose, merrily cataloguing everything Strex was doing, they brought all the news outlets and refused to stock them. Then, a few days later, the small group had gone missing, and when they returned they had no idea about anything related to Strex, or anything else.

Mags had, of course, gone to see them when they returned, hoping to figure out just what was going on. She hadn’t known any of them particularly well, but they’d been acquaintances for a few years, since she’d moved back to Desert Bluffs with her degree. They’d even collaborated on a couple of pieces. Not that any of them seemed to remember any of that, or anything really. They hadn’t had any idea about Strex, let alone what they’d found out. 

Which was why she’d not felt any regret at all in slipping a couple of their files into her bag when she visited. Involuntary, her eyes strayed to her wall safe, where she’d been storing them, along with the other information on Strex she’d been gathering since she’d opened them a few weeks ago.

As if on cue, her stomach decided to remind her that she hadn’t eaten since lunch, over 9 hours ago, and let out a large growl. Without looking she scooped up her phone and shot off a quick text to her favourite pizza place, requesting her usual. Throwing her phone back down on the table, she stared at the piles upon piles of dull notes in front of her and asked herself if she really needed to pay her heating bill.

As if sensing her wandering attention, her phone chimed. Glancing down, she saw it was from the editor her current piece would be sent, if she ever managed to convey something other than her utter boredom with the whole thing.

The text was absurdly cheerful, the sheer peppiness of it nearly choking Mags as she read it. “Hey there!” it claimed, as though it was the most exciting sentence the sender had ever written- which wasn’t impossible, considering the usual standard of work in the Desert Bluffs Tribunal- “Just checking in to make sure that we’ll have that piece on time! We all know you can do!”.

Mags stared at the tiny screen of her phone, before muttering defeatedly, “Damn it.” and sending the woman her unedited work. They wouldn’t even care, as long as it was happy enough.

“I did not get a journalism degree for this.” she complained to the general room, before making her way over to her window and releasing the shutters, preventing anyone from looking in. Rolling her eyes at her paranoia, she never the less checked outside her door before moving to her wall safe.

She removed the stereotypical painting covering the safe, and carefully input the combination, 1,6,4,1,8. The numbers were, of course, completely random, and recorded only in her brain, although she was well aware that her cheap little safe wouldn’t stop anyone determined to get in.

Reaching up, she pulled out the thick wedge of paper that was comprised almost entirely of messy scribbles and vague theories on what Strexcorp was, and where they’d come from, then reached in again to find the much slimmer file which contained all the evidence she’d been able to gather.

She’d started to piece together certain things now; she knew for sure that they were a lot bigger than anyone had suspected. They seemed to have a finger in every pie, not just limited to the US, but all around the world. As if that wasn’t enough, she’d begun to suspect that what they’d done to her fellow journalists wasn’t an isolated incident. 

She didn’t have anything concrete, of course, but then she didn’t have anything concrete on anything, really. Just a strange inkling that a lot of people seemed strangely happy, and Strex’s employees were happiest of all. She was going by her gut, determined to chase down this story, and willing to do a hell of a lot to get the information she was after. 

At that moment, the doorbell went. Hurrying over to the door, she peered through the eye-hole to see the familiar uniform of Little Rico’s delivery boys. She pulled open the door and took the warm box from him, tipping generously. He’d made it here in record  time after all. 

She took her pizza to her table, and cracked the box open, allowing the smell to fill her house. As she did, she realised how hungry she was, and began devouring it ravenously. Thank goodness Little Rico’s pizza hadn’t changed, even if it seemed like everything else had.

Which reminded her, she should probably get going if she wanted to meet her informant. She worked in Strex, and was the first solid leads she’d had. If she was lucky, she’d be able to confirm, or deny, many of her suspicions.

So saying, she replaced the slimmer file, and stuffed her own notes into her bag, along with a notepad and pen. After a moment’s hesitation she stuffed a few dollar notes in as well. She wasn’t planning on this taking too long, but she figured she might as well bring money for a coffee in case they ended up talking for long. 

Then she snagged her jacket off the sofa it was laying on and shoved her boots on as quickly as possible, darting back at the last minute to carefully place the picture back over her safe before she was out the door and standing in the cool air.

She shivered very slightly and hunched into her jacket, although it offered limited protection from the desert at night. The cold air kept her from standing in one place for too long, and she set off, striding purposefully down the dark streets. Looking around, she couldn’t help but be surprised at how empty it was; once the streets would have been packed until at least midnight. Although she had no proof that it was Strex’s fault, at this point she had become accustomed to blaming most everything on them, and so she added this to yet another thing she would have to pay them back for.

A cab drove past her and for a moment she considered flagging it down and escaping into the warmth, but her newly developed sense of paranoia wouldn’t let her, and instead she increased her pace, hoping to bring some warmth into her bones.

She crossed the road, and slipped into an alley between a convenience store and a one of the primary school teacher’s houses, Miss Jones, she believed. At the end of the alley was a wire fence, and she found that just like her informant had told her it was unattached at one corner. 

She had to duck down, and her clothing caught on the metal more than once, but eventually she was through, and relatively unscathed.

Continuing on her way, she couldn’t help but think that if she’d been alone before she didn’t know what she was now. There wasn’t a soul in sight, and other than the small amount of light given by the moon the area was pitch black.

She stuck to the worn dirt in front of her, less a path than a slightly more travelled patch of ground. Soon, she was making her way over the hill in front of her, and she saw the deserted mines where the Sheriff’s Secret Police had once conducted their business. They had since been deemed unnecessary by the town council, acting- she believed- under orders from Strex.

It had been heart-wrenching to see, as the helicopters she’d grown up under the watchful eye of were hauled away like refuse and replaced with bright yellow beasts, all of them cookie-cutter copies of each other. But she had remained silent, and watched. Just like she’d stayed silent when her colleagues had disappeared, when the radio host’s grandmother had gone missing, only to return a few weeks later, bruised and beaten and beaming a broad, bleeding smile.

But now, she was so close to the truth- the whole truth- that she could almost taste it. She was going to reveal everything, and get Strex out of her town once and for all. Everything would be fixed, and she would be hailed as a hero in the field of journalism.

This vision was fixed firmly in her mind as she drew ever nearer to the dark building. Once, the night had been familiar to her, but now she found that the more of Desert Bluffs Strex took control of, the more she craved the sun. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flicker of movement, dim light catching on blonde hair. Uncertainly, she called out, “Hello?”. After a moment of silence, she rolled her eyes at herself and called again, her voice stronger this time, “Hello? Lauren, is that you?”

A woman stepped more fully into the light. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty, Mags couldn’t tell, but she didn’t let her confusion over the woman’s age prevent her from admiring her body; not all, in fact.

“Hello there!” chirped Lauren, in that annoying peppy way all Strex employees seemed to have perfected, “You must be Mags, yes? I’m Lauren, that’s right.”

“Great.” Mags said brusquely, “It’s lovely to meet you and all that, but shall we hop to it? I don’t want to be out in the open for any longer than necessary, and you can’t either.”

Lauren smiled, and nodded, beginning to walk towards the building, leaving Mags to jog to keep up.

“It’s lovely to meet you too!” she replied, still incessantly cheerful, “I’d love to think that we’re going to be good friends. And if all goes according to plan, I’m sure we will be! So, why don’t you tell me what you know?”

“That’s not really how this works.” Mags replied, “The point is, you tell me what you know.”

Lauren laughed, and argued, “But I know quite a bit, really. Knowing what you know will help me to get this over with as quickly as possible.”  
Mags hesitated, unwilling to tell Lauren, before chiding herself. The woman had been helping her anonymously for months, and now she had even agreed to meet with her. She dug in her bag for a moment, and then handed Lauren her notebook.

Lauren took it, and flicked through it at an impressive rate. All the while, she kept walking, leading Mags further into the building. Suddenly, she stopped, and turned to face her. “Thank you very much, this has really been very informative. But I’m afraid it’s time for you to go now.”

“What-“ was all Mags managed, before being hit from behind. Instantly, she crumpled to the floor, out cold.

“Oh dear,” Lauren tutted, “You really should be more careful. Still, all’s well that ends well. Be a dear and take her to re-education, won’t you? They ought to be able to fix up that nasty head wound, at the same time as they fix up all the problems in her little head.”

Lauren tucked the notebook carefully into a plastic bag, and tucked it into her jacket. “I’ll take care of this.” she announced to no one in particular before striding off, the feeling of a job well done causing her steps to be even bouncier than they were before.

She’d been planning this for what seemed like years, ever since Mags had put herself on Strex’s radar by stealing the files of her friends. They hadn’t noticed, of course, still full to the brim with re-education drugs that left them drowsy and confused, but the cameras Strex had covering every inch of their homes certainly had. And when the woman had continued to look into the matter Lauren had been impressed despite herself, even convincing the necessary people that she should be involved, despite her high rank in the company hierarchy. 

It had been difficult, especially trying to figure out where she kept the files hidden, but when, on a whim, she had had Strex purchase Little Rico’s she had found that the woman kept the files in a safe behind a painting. It was so stereotypical it was almost disappointing, but she supposed Mags couldn’t afford much. It had been a risk, the purchase, as she had no guarantee it wouldn’t become common knowledge, or that anything would be found, but it had worked out perfectly in the end, as it had always been destined to do, with the Smiling God standing with them, and perhaps she would see Mags again in the future. She did hope so. The other woman was… intriguing.


End file.
